


Look to the West

by Oakwyrm



Category: Thrilling Intent (Web Series)
Genre: ...sort of Kyrlos/Zeke but also not because pain, Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Memories, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:05:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9137374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oakwyrm/pseuds/Oakwyrm
Summary: What can you do, really, when you have lost everything?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ringing in the new year with terrible, horrible pain because of course I am! And who better to do that with than these two because god dammit Jay just stab me why don't you?

Zeke stood quietly looking over the gathered people. Some of the faces he saw were all tightly controlled emotion, a clenched jaw telling of unshed tears, a deep breath speaking of barely held control. Others were less hesitant about showing how they felt. Very few of that gathered showed no hint of what they could be feeling.

Perhaps it was a vain hope to assume everyone mourned Kyrlos' passing but Zeke could truly not imagine anyone not missing him. These was no body to bury on this occasion. Kyrlos had already gotten the funeral he wished for. But there had been people left who had not gotten to say their goodbyes. Zeke counted himself among that number.

Quietly he stepped forwards, taking his place in front of the gathered crowd. The music of a lone violin rose sadly into the air, beginning a haunting melody. Zeke cast his eyes in the direction he knew held what had once been the Valour Clan forges and training hall. That was now changed, he supposed. He himself was changed. To those gathered he was once again unnamed and untitled but to himself the names Zeke and, yes, also the title of The Motherfucking Bowel Ripper, still rang true. It was... not so easy for him to shed the names as he would have liked everyone else to believe it was.

The music reached the point where he was to come in and he opened his mouth, his voice was soft and gentle as it had ever been when speaking as Zeke, Leader of the Lily Clan.

 

“ _Lay down_  
_Your sweet and weary head_  
_The night is falling_  
_You have come to journey's end_  
_Sleep now_  
_And dream of the ones who came before_  
_They are calling_  
_From across the distant shore_

 

_Why do you weep?_  
_What are these tears upon your face?_  
 _Soon you will see_  
 _All of your fears will pass away_  
 _Safe in my arms_  
 _You're only sleeping_

 

_What can you see_  
_On the horizon?_  
 _Why do the white gulls call?_  
 _Across the sea_  
 _A pale moon rises_  
 _The ships have come to carry you home_

 

_And all will turn_  
_To silver glass_  
 _A light on the water_  
 _All Souls pass_ ”

 

His voice faded towards the end as he reached the final note of what he intended to sing. He stood straighter and kept his head high, forcing the burning in his eyes that told of unshed tears to wait. Not yet, later but not just yet. He walked calmly from his place and took his seat again, waiting for the next person to speak or sing or whatever it was they wanted to do to honour Kyrlos' life and mourn his passing.

The rest of the memorial service blurred together and Zeke sat alone. He knew some of the attending people as those who used to be in the Lily Clan but he had never formed friendships with them. It felt entirely wrong to sit here without Dao at his side. It felt even more alien to know he would never hear Kyrlos' loud, booming laughter again. Would never hear a shouted noise complaint over his piccolo playing from the Valour Clan forge.

Would never know-

He abruptly stood up, his chair clattering backwards and falling over with a sound that made him wince. He ignored the looks, mixtures of curiosity and concern. Some took offence and he could not grudge them that. He looked no one in the eye as he hurried away. To where he didn't exactly know just... away. Far away, somewhere with markedly less people.

When his senses returned to a less clouded state he found himself staring out at the sunset. It set the sky ablaze with orange dyed the clouds pink, a beautiful way to end a day to full of painful memories. He looked about himself. There was no other living soul about him that he could see.

He found himself on one of the western walls of Big City. Not just any wall, this one he recognized well. It had been one of his more regular postings when he had still been a Guard in the Gold Clan. His most frequent companion in the duty had been Kyrlos.

Zeke pressed his hand against the uneven set of the stone. How many conversations had they had here? How many small ways had they found to pass the time when nothing happened? How many times had Kyrlos insisted he could beat Zeke at regular arm wrestling before Zeke had set him straight?

Zeke clenched his hand into a fist, looking back up to the sunset. Wavering and unsteady his voice rose once again into the air. Less gentle now his tone carried a somewhat harsher quality. A desperate plea for _something_. He didn't know exactly what. Kyrlos back? That was an impossible dream. He had wasted years watching his friend from afar and now... now it was too late. Any chance he had was irreversibly lost.

 

“ _Hope fades_  
_Into the world of night_  
 _Through shadows falling_  
 _Out of memory and time_  
 _Don't say_  
 _We have come now to the end_  
 _White shores are calling_  
 _You and I will meet again_  
 _And you'll be here in my arms_  
 _Just sleeping_

 

_And all will turn_  
_To silver glass_  
 _A light on the water_  
 _Grey ships pass_  
 _Into the West_ ”

 

His voice barely held, his arms shook with the effort of holding him upright when his knees began to fail him as the tears he had long prevented began, finally, to fall. The sun set bellow the horizon, bidding the night to truly start. Zeke took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain his lost composure.

A wracking sob tore its way out of his throat, making him gasp for air as he lost the last shred of whatever it was that had been keeping him together for the past days. Peace was what he had wanted. It was what he had wanted, it was what he had gotten and it was what he had paid for. He almost wanted to laugh through the tears.

_Isn't this what you wanted?_

Yes, he had to rationalise. The long war was over. This _was_ what he had wanted. He had perhaps been a fool for thinking he could get that without sacrifice. Who was he now? To everyone save himself he was no one. He had no clan, no title, no name, no friends. Dao was vanished and Kyrlos... Kyrlos was dead.

He shuddered, another sob rocking his frame, his tears beginning to splash down onto his clenched hands.

Zeke had loved him. Still loved him. But he was a coward. He was a coward and he had paid for it. Kyrlos was gone. Zeke had never even gotten to see his body. What kind of final farewell could he say? I was a fool? I wasted so much time?

Zeke stared out at the quickly darkening sky. There was no way now to know if Kyrlos had loved him, _could_ have loved him, even.

“I had my chance,” Zeke quietly told the night air. “I had my chance and I wasted it hesitating.” He wiped at his tears. He couldn't tell if he wanted to continue crying to to laugh. Whatever else it was he felt sick.

“You'd laugh at me now, wouldn't you?” he asked no one and nothing. “Tell me I should have more confidence in myself or something. I'm sorry.” Who was he apologising to? Himself for throwing away his chance or Kyrlos for his lack of trust? The moon slowly started to rise beyond the horizon, going to take the sun's place in the sky.

_No one told me it would hurt this badly._

**Author's Note:**

> Well. There you have it. I'm done. Happy new year folks, hopefully you have a good 2017.


End file.
